


Lay With Me

by as_inevitable_as_morning



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Bellamy Blake - Freeform, Bellarke, Clarke Griffin - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, My First Fanfic, Sleeping Together, Sleepy Cuddles, like the fluffiest crap youll ever read
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-09-26 22:29:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9925406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/as_inevitable_as_morning/pseuds/as_inevitable_as_morning
Summary: A series of fluffy drabbles in which Bellamy and Clarke realize how good it feels to lay next to one another.





	1. Feel

She looked like death and felt like it even more. Her long blonde locks were a frizzy mess and her ocean-blue eyes were lined with countless bags. Her breaths were low and uneven and she sneezed as he entered the room.

“Guess it’s true, then,” he commented, “Harper told me you were sick when I was on patrol earlier today, but I didn’t believe her.”

Clarke sat up in bed and wheezed, grabbing a cloth so she could wipe her nose. “Yeah, I guess whatever’s been going around camp finally got to me,” she said. The symptoms were all the same. Wheezing, coughing, sneezing, generally feeling like hell. She’d brought it up to Jaha in their most recent radio meeting—she still refused to speak to her mother—and concluded that it was a simple flu virus. They would live through it, but everyone would be off duty for a few days while they were recuperating.

“Do you need anything? Food? Water?” he questioned carefully, “I could ask Monty to make you some soup.”

She shook her head and brushed him off. “I’m okay. But thanks for asking.”

He nodded and gave her a small smile before turning on his heel, mentally bracing himself for whatever complaint or request would come next.

Clarke sighed to herself and sat up in bed, resulting in a terrible coughing fit. “Wait…” she called, but somehow it didn’t sound urgent. Bellamy stopped walking out of the tent and looked back at her, eyebrow raised in curiosity. The princess actually needed something from him? Here he thought that the batons they used on the Ark were shocking.

“There is something…” she bit her lip, obviously thinking over the next part of her sentence very carefully. “Lay with me for a while?”

Bellamy looked at her and blinked in response, confused. “Lay with you?” he inquired carefully, as if the question needed repeating. To a certain extent, it did. He had work to do around camp, and the delinquents were already starting to perceive his friendship with Clarke as something that was… unprofessional, to say the least. Besides, in his mind, there was someone better suited for the job.

“Isn’t that something you should be asking Spacewalker to do?” he asked.

She averted her eyes away from him, staring at the wall as she twiddled her thumbs together. “That’s… over,” she told him hesitantly, and then, with a hint of bitterness, “Finn’s probably screwing Raven as we speak.”

Bellamy merely blinked in response, not wanting to press her on something that was clearly making her upset. A few moments passed and then her blue irises returned to his face, questioning him again.

“Why me?” he finally asked.

Clarke’s response was almost instantaneous, as if she had anticipated his hesitance. She probably had, honestly. They were partners, of course, but their touches were far and few between. Neither had ever requested physical comfort from the other, either. “Because you’re here,” she scoffed, “And because I’m sick and freezing and didn’t have a chance to grab my body pillow before Jaha sent us to the ground.”

He blinked a few times, still trying to mentally process her request, before positioning himself next to her. They were both laying on their backs, just a few inches of space between them. They weren’t touching, but the mere presence of the other was enough for the both of them. “I guess I can spare a few minutes.”

They laid like that for a few minutes before Clarke started to toss and turn. Her breaths were quick and shaky and he could tell that it wasn’t just the flu that was making her sick.

“Stop it,” he demanded with a groan.

Clarke flipped over and looked him in the eyes, breath hot against his face. “What?”

He pulled her close against him, breaching the physical barrier that he had established in his head because—screw it—she was sick and exhausted and needed rest. She needed to be comfortable in order to do that. “Just stop thinking for five seconds and go to sleep,” he told her, voice low and soothing.

“I’m not—“

“Yes, you are. You’re thinking about camp and how we can all make it through this and what sacrifices we’re going to have to make along the way.”

It was true. Statistically speaking, overexerting herself probably played a large role in why she was so ill. It seemed like all she did was worry. Worry about her friends. Worry about the grounders. Worry about everyone that was still up in space. Worry about their food supply and the vines of poison ivy that were spreading everywhere. Her worries weighed heavily on her chest, but everyone was counting on her and she couldn’t bring herself to let them down.

“Someone has to,” she said with a sigh.

“Not today,” Bellamy retorted, “Not when you’re this sick and this exhausted.”

She let out a huff in protest, but resettled herself until her head was laying against the crook of his neck, her arms wrapped around his back.

“Just… close your eyes. Breathe.”

And so she did. Clarke’s blue eyes flickered shut and she took deep, long breaths. She let her worries fade away and tried her best to focus on something good.

She focused on the scent of pinewood that was burning in a fire several feet away from her tent. She focused on the faint sound of the delinquents whistling and laughing as they worked. She focused on the peaceful rise and fall of Bellamy’s chest next to her, the feel of his pulse beneath his worn blue t shirt.

She was surprised at how well it worked, how good it felt to be next to him with her head nestled against his shoulder. It was different than how things were with Finn. He seemed like safe choice originally, but every moment she spent with him was a roller coaster ride that she couldn’t seem to get off of. Her heart raced, her eyes widened, her mind was always constantly screaming because of the countless lifts and drops in their relationship.

But then, here was Bellamy. He was the most reckless and ruthless and impulsive person she had ever encountered, yet she had never felt more safe than when she was nestled up against him like this. It was quiet. It was peaceful. His arms held her close to him as his hands absent-mindedly drew lines on her arms and brushed through her hair, his warm breath hitting the top of her head. She didn’t want to admit to herself just how natural it felt, didn’t want to confess that she could probably lay like this with him forever as the world drifted away from them in the background.

He stirred beneath her, releasing her from his arms and carefully moving her to the other side of the cot. He was certain that she was asleep, but suddenly she was sitting back up again and looking up at him with wide blue eyes and a frown. She caught his hand in hers and slowly drew him back next to her. “Don’t go…” she pleaded, “Just a little while longer.”

And Bellamy did not have the heart to protest.


	2. Imagine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place in season 2. Slightly canon divergent, mostly AU, all fluff.  
> Listen to https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=amCJDHgPrPk to get the full effect!

“We need to trust them, Bellamy,” she’d told him, and he’d settled onto the ground next to her against his better judgement.

Every instinct inside of him was telling him that this was a stupid idea, that they’d never be able to trust the grounders fully—especially when all that they had seen so far was war. But Clarke changed everything, as usual. Determined and resilient and full of faith, the amount of empathy she held scared him sometimes. And so he settled down, dropping his pack and using it as a pillow, willing himself to sleep.

He didn’t. It was impossible.

On the other side of camp, he saw their people dozing off and heard snores coming from some of the tents. Sleep came easier for those that weren’t carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders, and for a moment Bellamy envied them. For as long as he could remember, he had been the protector, the guardian, the soldier, and he’d give anything for a few moments of rest. But his people were here and their supposed enemies were only a few feet away, the proposed plan risky as hell.

He couldn’t have shut his eyes if he tried.

Suddenly, Clarke stirred next to him and faced him with tired eyes. In that moment, he knew she hadn’t gotten an ounce of sleep either, that she was buried with the same burdens as he was.

Knowing that they weren’t alone in all of this gave them both a ridiculous amount of comfort.

“Can’t sleep?” he muttered softly, his voice even hoarser than usual in his efforts to make as little sound as possible.

She shook her head slightly and let out a sigh.

It was ridiculous, really. There had been no movement from either side for hours, but the anxious part of her mind still managed to get the better of her. There was simply too much to think about—her friends in Mount Weather, the grounders, Finn’s death. She asked herself a series of countless ‘what ifs’ that always kept sleep out of reach.

A moment of easy silence passed between the two of them. They simply laid there, their eyes occasionally darting off to the trees or the stars before slowly gravitating back to the other’s face.

Bellamy cleared his throat, carefully considering what he was about to say before realizing how stupid his hesitance was. It wasn’t like they were actually going to do anything, and if other people wanted to act like idiots about it, screw them. His relationship—friendship, he corrected himself—with Clarke was no one else’s business but their own.

“Lay with me for a while?” he asked, and Clarke couldn’t help but smile in response.

She was instantly brought back to the day in the tent, when she had been the one to propose that question. She remembered the feel his arms around her and his warm breath hitting the top of her head, the beat of his steady heart against her ear. She recalled how good lying with him had made her feel.

She moved over to him slowly, tentatively, afraid that she would wake someone. But, as usual, Bellamy had other plans. He caught her wrist in his hand and pulled her to him quickly, enveloping her in his strong arms and resting his hands on the small of her back. She settled herself against him so that her head was resting on his chest, just below the crook of his neck, and her arms reached around his back and drew him even closer. They were in the same position as they were what felt like eons ago.

He had to let out a breath because of how good it felt to have his arms around her.

Everywhere he went he was thought of as a bringer of chaos and death, but he was never that to Clarke. No, never to her. For some unknown reason, she had decided that he was good, decided that he wasn’t a monster or a murderer or any of the other terrible things he saw in himself. To her, he was a man that—while certainly problematic and infuriating at times—would do anything to protect those he loved. She looked over the rough, hard walls that he put up for himself and peered right into his soul. She chose to see the good in him and ignore all the rest.

He looked up at the stars and smiled, his hands mindlessly combing through her long blonde hair. It was moments like these that he could pretend to be half the man she perceived him as.

He imagined himself in a time of peace, when there weren’t any wars to win or people to save, and it was all so vivid.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

He could see a house on top of a hill that was surrounded by trees and meadows and rivers. He could smell the scent of fresh pine and the musk of a campfire burning in the distance. He could hear birds chirping sweet, happy songs. He could feel a soft breeze and the warm sun on the back of his neck.

He took a step closer to the house, then another, then another. He started to notice the color of the front door, a dark green that matched the color of fir trees. He began to hear the clatter of metal and realized that the sound was coming from windchimes on the porch. He could smell something sweet coming from what he could only assume was the kitchen, and his mouth started to water at the thought of what it could be.

He made his way onto the porch and the wood creaked under his boots, but he found the sound oddly comforting, as if he were actually coming home. He grabbed the door handle and twisted it, pushing it forward so that the door was popped open.

It was beautiful inside.

The first room was a simple foyer, with a staircase leading to the second floor and doors allowing access to the rooms on the first. He took a left and found the kitchen, a fresh-baked pie laying on the white countertop. If his mouth wasn’t watering when he was outside, it certainly was now. The pie was made from apples, his favorite.

After tearing himself out of the kitchen, the pie left mostly uneaten, he headed across the hall. His jaw dropped at what he saw next.

It was a library, with books and shelves as far as the eye could see. He smiled at the titles he noticed, immediately brought back to his childhood. He had read every one more times than he could possibly count. There was a wooden desk in the center, covered with papers and note cards and writing utensils of all sorts. To the north wall, there was an easel with a canvas. It was empty, aside from a few sketch marks. He stepped toward it and narrowed his eyes, trying to see if he could make out the image the artist had in mind…

A sound came from the back of the house, and Bellamy stirred when he heard it. He wasn’t afraid per se, only curious. It was impossible to be afraid when he was here, when he was home.

He left the library and marched down the hall until he’d reached the back door. He grabbed the handle and pulled it toward him, finding that it opened to another deck. He heard the sound again, registering it as the cheerful laughs and screams of children as they played in the backyard. He scanned the yard with his eyes. He couldn’t help but smile.

There were trees, tall oaks that had probably been there for half a century at the least. There were flowers of all sorts everywhere, as far as the eyes could see. There was a wooden playset, a handmade jungle gym of sorts, a tire tied to a tree. There were three children. Two girls and a boy, no more than a few years apart.

The oldest had blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, with glasses and freckles and a smile that was brighter than the sun. She was obviously in charge of the other two, explaining the games they would play and clapping her hands together at the start.

The second was a boy, around seven or eight, who clearly didn’t appreciate his sister’s mandative attitude. Bellamy chuckled to himself as he watched the boy kick the dirt and cross his arms. “If you keep bossing us around, I’m telling Mom,” he said, sticking out his bottom lip in protest and looking at his sister with dark eyes. She merely shrugged in response and waved him forward to play with them. He rolled his eyes but didn’t protest, and soon he was halfway across the yard chasing them.

The youngest was another girl. She was only three or four and clearly didn’t understand half of the games her siblings came up with, but laughed and played along nonetheless. Her dark brown pigtails flowed behind her as she ran across the yard. “Come and get meee!” she called out in between giggles.

He sat there and watched them for a moment, his grin growing wider and wider. He watched as the boy caught her in his arms and tickled her senseless. “Tag! You’re it!” he exclaimed, before setting her on the ground and taking off in the opposite direction.

He watched as the eldest slowed her pace to give her little sister the advantage, and saw the toddler pat her on the back of her knee. “Darn it!” the blonde exclaimed in feigned surprise. “Well, I guess I’m it now!”

They went on like that for a while, just running back and forth and tapping each other on the arm or the leg or the foot and giggling all the while. The youngest fell flat on her face and let out a cry, but got to her feet and brushed herself off seconds later. Her siblings gave her a minute to catch her breath, and she spent it searching for a possible escape route. Instead, she clasped her eyes on him.

“Daddy?” she called, stepping toward the porch in sheer curiosity and smiling when she saw it was him. “Mommy, Mommy! Daddy’s home!”

She ran toward him immediately. The other two weren’t far behind, and soon Bellamy found himself enveloped in a tight group hug. The littlest one clung to his leg, the boy to his hip, and the eldest just below his ribcage.

“Bellamy?” a voice around the corner asked.

His jaw dropped when he saw her, awestruck by how beautiful she was. He didn’t think that it was possible for her to be more gorgeous than she was in her prime, but he should have known that she would prove him wrong. She always did. Her blonde hair had been trimmed just above her shoulders and her cerulean eyes glistened with more wisdom than he’d ever seen. Her clothes were simple, just a pale pink t-shirt and cropped jeans, but they were in pristine condition. There was no blood or dirt, no evidence of the pain or heartache that she had gone through. Only beauty remained. Beauty, and love.

She smiled at him and marched up the steps of the porch, joining in their little embrace. Her arms clasped around his neck and pressed her soft lips to his cheek, resulting in a snide remark from their son and giggles from their two girls.

The family stood there for what seemed like seconds and eons all in one. Bellamy didn’t think he had been happier in his entire life.

Clarke stood on her tiptoes so that her lips were near his right ear. “It’s good to have you home, Bellamy…” she whispered.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Bellamy…”

He heard Clarke’s voice again, but this time it was much clearer. It felt closer, more real. He felt an elbow hit him just above the ribs and his brown eyes opened to a dark sky, to their hellish reality. It wasn’t morning yet, but it would be soon.

Clarke was still nestled on top of him, but she had rolled onto her stomach so that she could look at him when she spoke. Her hair was disheveled and the corner of her mouth was crusted with drool and she had clearly no idea how cute she looked. “People will be up soon,” she told him, trying to maneuver herself out of his arms. “I’m going to lay down over there.”

His grip around her tightened and he looked up at her with sad, sleepy eyes. He wasn’t ready to give up his fantasy just yet—he wasn’t sure he ever would be—and he silently prayed that she wasn’t either. “Please,” he begged, his voice still coarse from peaceful sleep, “just a little while longer.”

And Clarke did not have the heart to protest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Lay With Me' was originally only supposed to be one chapter, but these two characters demanded more. I hope you all enjoyed reading! Any comments/kudos are greatly appreciated! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This is the first fanfic I've ever written, so it really does mean a lot! If you'd like to leave a comment or provide constructive criticism, I'd really appreciate it! Thanks!


End file.
